Terrors of the Forest

by Mark Cheverton

  Moving to Weaver, the user carefully grabbed the splash bottle of poison and put it back into his inventory.

  “So, it seems your friends have lost our trail, or they’ve given up on saving you,” Entity303 said with a smile.

  “Smithy will never give up,” Weaver said defiantly. “When he catches you, he’s gonna make you sorry.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” the user said. “Your pathetic friend, Smithy, is not whom you think he is. He’s really …”

  “I refuse to believe you!” Weaver growled. “Smithy is my friend. He’s the leader of our village and would never try to deceive us. So stop your lies and let me go before it’s too late for you.”

  “Let you go?” He laughed. “You’re my insurance policy. I’m not going to let you go until everything in Minecraft is destroyed. When my plans are impossible to stop, then maybe I’ll strand you and your friends on some unstable world and let you watch the end of Minecraft together. Ha ha ha.” The user laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever said. Weaver scowled at him.

  Moving to the trunk of the rainbow oak tree, he loosened the rope that held Weaver to the trunk, though his arms were still securely bound by more lengths of rope.

  “Come along, villager, we’re going to follow your pathetic little friends for a while.”

  Entity303 yanked on the rope, drawing Weaver closer. He quickly pulled out a cloth and stuffed it in the boy’s mouth, then tied the loose ends behind his square head.

  “There, maybe that will keep you quiet. I don’t want you yelling to those villagers and letting them know where we are, at least not yet.”

  Pulling on the rope, the user led Weaver to the north, following the trail made by his enemies.

  “What are you up to, Gameknight999?” Entity303 growled. “What have you figured out?”

  Weaver tried to mumble something but the cloth kept him quiet. The user glanced at the boy and saw an expression of defiance on his square face. Carefully reaching into his inventory, he pulled out the poison arrow again and gave the villager a little poke. Instantly, sickly green spirals formed around the boy’s head, his face turning as pale as a skeleton.

  Entity303 laughed cruelly, then yanked on the rope again and continued north after Gameknight999 and his friends, the pursued now the pursuer.

  CHAPTER 18

  INTO THE FIRE SWAMP

  They ran through the firefly forest in complete silence, the muffled thump of their boots on the thick green grass the only sound coming from the party. Herds of deer watched them pass, some of the younger ones getting startled and running away while the adults, with their great horned racks, stood guard and cast a watchful eye.

  “I don’t think I like the sound of this place you’re taking us to,” Crafter said.

  “Nor do I,” Gameknight replied. “But in order to beat Entity303, we must take control. The fire swamp will give us the last trophy and enable us to get to his final destination before he does.”

  “But how can you be certain that user was leading us from monster to monster just to collect these trophies?” Woodcutter asked.

  “Because he could have taken us to some more dangerous places than the Naga and the Lich King that don’t have any trophies,” the User-that-is-not-a-user explained.

  “Yes, yes, Gameknight999 is correct,” Empech said, the little gnome somehow easily keeping up with their sprint, his tiny legs moving in a blur. “The Goblin King in the dark forest, very dangerous. And the Minoshroom in his labyrinth, yes, yes, few emerge, few survive.”

  “Empech is right,” Gameknight added. “If Entity303 wanted to reduce our numbers, he could have taken us there, and surely many of us would have perished.”

  Squawk, squawk, Tux screeched, her voice sounding tired.

  “Yeah, maybe it’s a good time for a rest,” Gameknight said.

  They stopped in a large clearing devoid of trees, a lazy river carving a sinuous path through the landscape. Bright flowers dotted the grassy floor with blue, fluorescent green, and yellow flowers, each giving off magical particles that floated up into the air, then evaporated, leaving behind the faintest sparkle of light. It was captivating to watch. At the far end of the clearing there was a large mound that looked unnatural for some reason. Grass covered its slopes, merging it with its surroundings, but there was something about the hill that seemed dangerous. The wolves moved next to each other and glared at the mound. Their fur bristled as their tails stuck straight out, a deep throated growl coming from each.

  “What’s wrong with the wolves?” Digger asked as he set Tux on the ground.

  “There are monsters in the distant hill,” Herder said, pointing to the mound as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair.

  “Monsters?!” Stitcher asked excitedly, already drawing an arrow and notching it to her bowstring.

  “It is safe, yes, yes. Monsters will stay in their hill.” Empech moved forward and put a calming hand on Stitcher’s arm. “Weapons are not needed here, all is safe.”

  The young girl lowered her bow, but kept a watchful eye on the grassy knoll.

  “Speaking of weapons,” Gameknight said, “I picked this up after the Lich King disappeared.” He pulled out the bone-handled wand with the large green gem embedded in the end. “Empech, any idea what it is?”

  “The Lich King’s wand, yes, yes,” the gnome said.

  “Well, I know it’s the Lich King’s wand,” the User-that-is-not-a-user replied. “But do you know what it does?”

  “It is rumored the Lich King has three wands, yes. Empech heard of the Scepter of Life Draining, the Twilight Scepter, and the Zombie Specter, but it is not clear which this is.”

  “That’s the one the skeleton king was using to conjure up all those zombies,” Hunter said.

  “Maybe we can use it and the zombies will be on our side,” Woodcutter suggested.

  “Dangerous experiment, yes, yes. It is wise to be cautious with this and only use it if the situation is dire.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Gameknight replied, putting the scepter back into his inventory.

  As he did so, his hand brushed against something warm in his inventory. Reaching in, he pulled out the Lich King’s battle-axe. The weapon pulsed with magical power as if it were alive. But there was something else about the axe; it didn’t fit in Gameknight’s hands, as if the axe was rejecting him. He felt the heavy weight of the sparkling weapon and knew this thing needed strong arms and firm hands to wield it properly. He thought about Carver from long ago in Minecraft’s past; he would have loved this tool. But then his eyes fell on Digger, and he wondered…. He put away the weapon, then moved his gaze across the others.

  “Let’s get moving,” Stitcher said. “We need to stay ahead of Entity303. I want to get to this fire swamp of yours and battle whatever is there.” She continued running to the north.

  “The younger sister is quick to find violence,” Empech said with a sigh.

  “It wasn’t always that way with her,” Gameknight said. “In my timeline, she was the last to pick up a weapon and the first to make peace.”

  “Not anymore,” Hunter said as she got up and started following her sister.

  The wolf pack leader barked once, then loped after the young girl, the rest of the pack spreading out to form a protective ring. The companions headed north, following Stitcher, each with a bow in their hands, eyes scanning the strange forest through which they passed.

  Gameknight slowed a bit, allowing Digger to catch up with him, Tux held under one arm. The stocky NPC had taken to watching over the young penguin, as if it somehow eased the pain he still felt over the loss of his son, Topper.

  “Digger, I have something for you,” Gameknight said.

  The NPC’s blue-green eyes shifted to the User-that-is-not-a-user. “What is it?”

  “It’s the Lich King’s battle axe. I have the feeling, for some reason, that you’ll be needing this.” Gameknight reached into his inventory and held the Lic
h King’s battle axe in the air. The glistening head was heavy and drooped toward the ground.

  “I don’t understand it, but I feel like you need to have this,” Gameknight explained. “Something about it makes me think this is critical, and I need you to use this weapon when the time is right.”

  “Why not give it to Woodcutter? He uses axes all the time.”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, Digger, but I feel you’re the one who needs this, not Woodcutter.” Gameknight took a step closer and placed the axe in his friend’s timid hands.

  “Huh … it’s much lighter than I would have thought,” Digger said. He swung it through the air. The keen edge made a whistling sound, leaving a glowing trail as if the magically heated blade was burning through the air.

  Gameknight moved a little closer and lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear. “I know you’re afraid; so am I. But something deep down in my soul tells me that I need you at my side with this axe in your hands. It doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t understand it, but I fear if you’re not right next to me with this axe, then someone will fall in battle, and I couldn’t bear to know it might be you.” The User-that-is-not-a-user looked directly into the stocky NPC’s eyes. “I need you with me on this adventure. Filler and Topper need you.”

  Digger sighed, then nodded his head.

  “All right?” Gameknight asked, trying to sound enthusiastic, but he could tell from the expression on Digger’s square face that he was still afraid.

  TWANG … twang, twang.

  “Yeah!” Stitcher exclaimed, as if she’d just won some kind of prize.

  “What is it?” Gameknight said as he sprinted toward the front of the formation. He reached Crafter’s side and saw Stitcher just a few strides ahead.

  “One less zombie for us to worry about,” the young girl said. She glanced over her shoulder, a radiant smile on her face, though her eyes were still filled with anger.

  “Stitcher seems so angry,” Gameknight said. “I worry about her.”

  “She seems normal enough to me.”

  “That’s the problem,” the User-that-is-not-a-user replied. “She has a constant tone of violence about her that all of you have accepted as normal.”

  “Well, she was held in that nether fortress as a prisoner for a long time,” Crafter said. “If we’d been able to slow down Erebus and Malacoda back then, they would have captured fewer prisoners, and maybe she would be different now. But those two monsters moved across the Overworld pretty much unchecked … you remember.”

  “No, I don’t. That wasn’t my timeline. I remember destroying Erebus and slowing Malacoda’s forces by using lots of TNT and fireworks. Most of those things were your ideas, because of what Weaver taught you when you were younger. But with him being taken away from the timeline, you never learned those things.”

  “This is very confusing,” Crafter said.

  “Weaver’s abduction has affected all of you,” Gameknight continued in a low voice. “Look at Digger; he was a pillar of strength and courage in my timeline. Herder was the most calm and trusting person in all of Minecraft, and Stitcher had more empathy for others than anyone in existence.”

  “And what about me?” Crafter asked.

  “I think you most of all were changed, Crafter. You would never have accepted these attitudes from another villager, much less your friends. But you have accepted them as they are, instead of how they could be.” Gameknight weaved around a tall tree with fireflies clinging to its spotted bark. “You were the heart and soul of Minecraft in my timeline, and you pushed everyone to be the best person they could be, even if it was difficult. I remember you once told me a story about a boy in your village named Fisher … do you remember it?”

  “There was one boy by that name, but he drowned in the lake when he was young; never learned how to swim … so sad.”

  “That didn’t happen in my timeline,” Gameknight snapped. “But anyway, Fisher in my timeline taught you that deeds do not make the hero. Rather it is the fears they overcome that define them and make them heroic. You forced me to confront my own fears, as you did with everyone around you. But here in this timeline, you seem to be content with things as they are, instead of pushing against those barriers and trying to make things better.” Gameknight sighed. “This whole timeline is all wrong. We need to put it back the way it was.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “We must save Weaver and send him back to the past.”

  Stitcher slowed to a walk as she came to the end of the forest biome, the fireflies flitting about in the foliage of the soaring trees. The landscape changed quickly from the flowered, life-affirming forest, to something burned and charred. The young NPC pulled out a new arrow and notched it to her bowstring. She scanned her surroundings as Gameknight and the others approached.

  “What is it?” Gameknight asked.

  Stitcher remained silent as her angry, predatory gaze shifted across the biome before them.

  “What kind of land is this?” Herder asked. He reached out and patted one of the growling wolves.

  “I remember going through this part of the mod long ago,” Gameknight said. “I knew we’d eventually find this place. This is the fire swamp.”

  “That doesn’t sound very nice,” Hunter said.

  “I agree,” Woodcutter added, his iron axe in his hands.

  Digger moved up next to him and glanced down at Woodcutter’s axe, then pulled out the gold battle-axe from the Lich King and gripped the handle firmly. The stocky NPC shook ever so slightly, unseen to all of their eyes except Gameknight’s.

  Pools of lava dotted the landscape, with thin tendrils of smoke slowly rising from the ground like dark, ethereal snakes. The constant east-to-west wind dragged the winding lines of smoke, spreading them into an ashen haze that filled the air, making it difficult to see very far. The ground was a burnt brown, with little embers glowing here and there. The occasional tree could be seen with leaves still covering its top, but most of them were bare of their leafy canopy. The empty trees stood as limbless trunks, stark reminders of the death and destruction that was spreading through Minecraft.

  A column of fire suddenly shot up into the air, making a sound that Gameknight could only equate to that of a jet engine.

  “I think this is probably the worst place I’ve ever seen, aside from the Nether and the End,” Stitcher said.

  “The good thing is it can’t get any worse,” Hunter added.

  Just then, a great roar sliced through the air. It was a terrible, primeval sound that made tiny square goose bumps form on Gameknight’s skin. The bellowing roar bespoke of a creature filled with strength and anger and violence.

  “Great, now it’s worse,” Hunter said. “If we …”

  Before she could finish her statement, another roar, slightly higher, was added to the first, and then a low growl from a third creature echoed across the landscape, making a musical chord of malice and hatred.

  “There’s three of them?” Digger moaned.

  “Maybe we can go around them,” Woodcutter suggested.

  “If we move along that ridge,” Crafter said, pointing to a line of trees, some of them charred and burnt, “we could get around those monsters, and …”

  “No, we can’t go around them,” Gameknight said. “Those monsters are why we’re here. It’s their trophy we’re here for. There is no other path.”

  “But it sounds as if there are three of them out there,” Digger said. “How do we fight three monsters that sound that huge?”

  “There aren’t three,” Empech said. “Only one creature rules in the fire swamp, yes, yes.”

  “But we heard three distinct roars,” Crafter said.

  “Three roars, three heads, one body,” the tiny gnome said. “Welcome to the land of the Hydra.”

  “Hydra … I don’t like the sound of that,” Hunter said.

  Another roar boomed through the air, making all of them flinch.

  “I
don’t know about this,” Crafter said.

  “I do,” Gameknight growled. “Weaver needs all of us, and we need him. Come on.”

  Drawing his dual swords, Gameknight stepped into the fire swamp, heading in the direction of the most frightening roars he’d ever heard.

  CHAPTER 19

  BROOMS

  Entity303 pulled Weaver behind the trunk of the massive oak tree. It stretched up at least thirty blocks if not more. Its base was six blocks wide, and was without a doubt one of the largest trees he’d ever seen.

  “I added this mod, just to see how much it could strain the server planes,” Entity303 said with a smile as he patted the rough bark.

  Weaver just grunted.

  “What? You want to say something?” the user said.

  He reached behind Weaver and untied the gag.

  “You have something you want to add?”

  “Yeah. I can’t wait until they catch you,” Weaver growled. “I’m gonna enjoy watching when you have to face Smithy of the Two-Swords in combat. You won’t stand a chance.”

  “Ha, what a joke,” Entity303 scoffed. “I think I’m gonna keep Gameknight999 alive just long enough for you to finally understand the lie he’s been perpetrating on you and all the other villagers. You think your famous leader is an NPC like you when he’s really a user like me … I love it!”

  Weaver gritted his teeth and scowled at the user.

  “Now it’s time to move fast,” Entity303 said. “Your little friends have led us to the Fire Swamp, and that can mean only one thing.”

  He pulled a broom out of his inventory and dropped it to the ground. It sparkled and glowed with magical enchantments. Weaver looked down at it, a confused expression on his face.

  “That broom is from a witchcraft mod I put on the servers after Herobrine unlocked them for me,” Entity303 explained. “We’re gonna use these brooms so we can beat Gameknight999 and his foolish comrades to their destination. Now get on the broom.”